


My Beloved.

by sodadesq



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Era, Not Underage, They're both like 20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodadesq/pseuds/sodadesq
Summary: Person B knowing they're undoubtedly going to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they're bleeding out from.  Instead of calling out for help, they phone Person A and carry out a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong , making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.Based on this prompt alone.





	My Beloved.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written on a whim and therefore very messy and big and I apologise!!! 
> 
> Maybe one day I'll actually edit it to be nicer to read. Anyways, hopefully you enjoy :-)

Pain.

This was often romanticized, wasn't it? 

It seemed to be the main role that people interested in writing literature took on, either that or something that seemed to be much too explicit for his liking, depicting certain themes that caused his hands to rub together as he thought back the images that swirled in his mind and tinted his cheeks. 

Personally, he would rather take part in reading a piece of lavish writing that was so articulate and interesting that he would often sit forward in anticipation for the next flow of words that would deliver expressions and analogies that he was able to understand. 

But the subject of pain was also something that would be expressed in some of the things he would read. The burning pain of loneliness, when a poet finally put his pen to paper and wrote about a time in his life in which he had felt it. Or someone being hurt and another caring for them immensely until coaxed into good health or someone getting hurt and another being unable to help.

The last one would have been something Sebastian did not think about much, aside from nights when he would squeeze the pen that would sit lax in his hand as he wrote a hand-written letter to be delivered to a post-box that would eventually arrive in London, to his beloved boyfriend who he was unable to be with due to a series of work-centered events. He would find himself wondering briefly if anything would ever happen to that sapphire eyed man who carried an air of great intelligence that made up for his lacking height. 

And then he'd shake his head and release a breathy chuckle because that was illogical. 

Now he could almost let out a laugh at the ironic aspect of it all, for it was not his beloved that was injured or harmed, but himself, now clad in his black sweater and jeans, lying stomach down on the cold cobblestone ground in an abandoned alleyway somewhere, blood soaking through his chest and escaping through the cracks of the stone, the red liquid travelling easily as though it were water. Never in his life had he felt the air escape from his lungs forcefully with such pain. Of course, he had been punched before and felt air disappear as though he was drowning, but not this. 

This kind of pain had his eyes tearing up and his face contorting into an expression only those who were in great pain could muster. 

And despite the fact that his throat was dry yet still fully capable of speech and sound, he did not open his mouth to scream for help. It wasn't because he did not think anyone would help him, but because the streets were completely empty.

The splitting cold was preventing most from leaving their warm households. 

But not Sebastian, who was beginning to heavily regret his three-pm trip to the store to get some milk. He didn't even reach the aforementioned place before accidentally getting involved with a gang who shot him and ran off as if he truly had any interest in their activities. His mind was still spinning at this point, though almost blankly and he would have stayed gasping and shuddering if not for his phone that had fallen in front of him from his pocket.

He grabbed it with the little strength he had left, and dialed a number he would never think he'd forget. 

It rang for a moment, before it clicked to signify someone picking up and the raven haired man could have cried in relief that he was not going to be alone anymore. He propped it against his ear as he turned his head so that his cheek was resting against the cold stone. 

"Hello Sebastian." 

Hearing that smooth british boyish voice that held such enunciation had Sebastian closing his eyes tightly and imagining the boy standing in front of him with that smile that was so rare to be seen by other people, but Sebastian could never count the amount of times he had seen it. 

"Hello, Ciel. I just wanted some company whilst going to get milk, since the corner-shop is closed, which is perfectly useful in my position." Sebastian spoke smoothly as he could, eradicating any suspicion that something was wrong.

It was almost as if he was not on the floor, occasionally spitting out blood and twitching in pain. Almost.

"Oh, yeah. I told you London was much better than New York." Ciel spoke with the tone of someone who was refraining from saying 'I told you so' in that sing-song tone. "Couldn't you have texted me though?"

_I doubt I could have._

Sebastian didn't voice his dark thoughts outloud before speaking, voice lower. "No, because it's too difficult to type when you have gloves on to keep warm. Asides, I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me." 

"Huh?" The male's breath shuddered on the other side of the call. "Is that so? It's like you to be romantic, but not on the way to get milk." 

"Maybe I inhaled some kind of air that thrived on making me more open to expressing my love for a certain person." Sebastian replied, his bloodied lips lifting into a ghost of a smile for a moment, though it stopped when he let out a choked cough, blood splattering on the ground. 

"Are you okay? That sounded really bad. You never told me you had a cold." Ciel spoke, suspicion seeping in his tone though it did not cover the sound of concern.

"I'm completely fine, I just have a cough. I need milk though and then I can focus on getting better. But Ciel, whilst I'm talking, I want to speak to you about how much you mean to me. I was never particularly fond of the emotion of 'love', and I was sure I could never truly understand such a concept. You made me feel something that I can never truly put into words, even if I did pride myself on being an individual that thrived on intellect." 

"You're-" Ciel began, though he was cut off.

"Every moment I was given to spend by your side by whatever Elysian body is truly up there, ephemeral or not, I cherish. I have no doubts in my mind that there will be a time in which that opinion is opposite. You see, I spent everyday suppressing every desire for you possible, to rake my tainted hands over your pale body and to whisper words into your ear that you will take great time to forget. I wish I were able to press you gently against a wall and upturn your chin with a single finger and feel your smooth legs wrap around my hips. If I was there as of right now instead of in an alleyway, I would not hesitate to press your cherry lips against mine. 

"You're like a celestial body; beautiful but briefly anything else. You burn with the light of one that is so alluring to a presence such as myself that you cause me to truly wonder if you radiate with more lustre than the sun does, my great beloved. I find it hard to not be impressed by your overall intelligence and view on such an outcast person such as myself, despite my straying from society as a whole. I have never held such an interest in a single individual as you. How, I wonder, do you manage to captivate the world with those eyes that feel like I am looking directly into the starry sky, labelled with many jewels that glitter with such intensity? 

"It is presumptuous of me to assume that perhaps you only truly look at me like that, yet I have little reason to believe otherwise, as you have stated many times yourself. You mean more to me than the meaning of existence means to philosophers. I will never stop loving you, Ciel Phantomhive. That is a promise." 

There was silence for a moment. 

"I love you too, you cat loving weirdo." 

Sebastian, for the last time, smiled with a large grin, and with few natural words of having to go, he hung up, wishing it would not have to be the last time he would ever speak to his loved. 

But sometimes, things don't always go right. And he supposed, as his body felt more lighter and his mind was heavily clouded, this was something that wasn't in his favor. And that, he decided as he let out one last breath, was not okay.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not too useful, but if you were wondering, there's this!
> 
> *"You're..." Ciel was going to point out that Sebastian was referring to himself and events in past-tense. 
> 
> Thankyou for reading!


End file.
